The First Purge
by skiesofice
Summary: The Outsiders and Purge crossover. Sort of an intro to the story, so there's more coming soon! (Pairing Soda and Steve.) Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

The air was thick. The deeper he breathed, the more confined he felt, like his lungs were going to volley, collapse under their own pressure. The Greaser fiddled with his hands, crossing his fingers and biting at his nails every few moments. This was a rumble like no other, and he pronounced it wasn't fair. Children shouldn't be fighting wars to benefit the destitutions their governments were facing. He had endured enough. He had suffered enough. Everyone here had suffered enough.

Johnny blinked, freeing himself from his daze, catching sight of something serrated and glinting against the vague sky behind the window.

It sure didn't look like Dally was suffering.

"An opportunity," he had cooed in readiness, never taking his eyes off of the switchblade in his hands.

"They're gonna use heaters, too," Johnny murmured after a moment, and it seemed for the first time that night, Dally glanced at his friend. A thin smile crossed his lips and his eyes gleamed like his blade, laughing at Johnny's grey expression. "Don't worry," he assured the boy, reaching down and impinging the waistline of his pants, lifting his shirt. Johnny's eyes trailed behind and widened at the sight.

Black boomed against Dally's skin.

"I've got one, too," he divulged proudly, rebounding his attention back to his blade, leaving Johnny's mind to barrel over the possibilities all starting with that gun.

"You should get yourself one, too, Johnnycakes. 'M afraid I won't be there to protect you tonight."

Johnny peered up at his friend.

"Got some business to take care of," Dally said slowly, slurring his words together in a way Johnny didn't like.

Johnny shook his head, stammering against the Greaser's suggestion. Dally clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and shook his head in a satiric manner. Johnny of course, was not the least bit amused.

"Suit yourself. I'm going to have fun with this."

Of course Dally devised on having leisure during this event, Johnny reflected, the corners of his mouth twisting downwards. This was a pensive matter, he thought helplessly. Dally was treating it like a jest, he was playing God and he knew it. It amused him though, Johnny perceived, knitting his eyebrows together in the Greaser's direction. The thought of losing his friend sparked deep inside him, though Johnny didn't brood too much. Dally may be trigger happy, but he was astute. Or more so, he wasn't going to be stupid enough to die during something like this. That didn't mean he wasn't going to get hurt, though, his mind sang.

 _He wants to go alone._

What if Johnny wasn't there? Who would take his place? If Dally got hurt, nobody would be there to aid him. If it got to the point, nobody would be there to save him.

Johnny almost trembled at the thought. He was drowning in his own thoughts again, everything shuffled together, there were no spaces between the words and no moments to catch his breath. His dark eyes were broad and gaping at the Greaser. Dally discerned this, and stared back, in spite of Johnny not noticing for a few moments.

"Hm?" Dally purled, somewhat smirking between satisfaction and vim. He was amused once again.

Johnny's eyes focused, relinquished their glaze as he glanced away, blushing in embarrassment.

"I-I'm going with you," he sputtered, though his voice was soft.

Dally sat up a bit straighter and Johnny shifted in his seat at the motion, clasping his hands together and struggling not to let his breath catch in his throat.

"Okay," Dally fated, then grinned, leaning in and grabbing the boy's shoulder, gripping tightly. Johnny tried to smile. He moved against his friend's touch, a mute act of gratitude, his simper reassuring, wanting to shrink back at his friend's, though. He felt something burning in himself, and he felt it burning in Dally, too.

"Good."

* * *

"Sodapop, you're watching him."

Soda laughed knowingly, nodding his head and flashing Darry a bracing smile. " 'Course I am," he vested, staring into his brother's hard eyes.

Darry blinked in riposte, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen, already explaining to Ponyboy what was going to happen in a inexorable voice. Soda knew Ponyboy was already aghast enough, he didn't need Darry trying to scare him anymore, yet he got where his older brother was coming from, and didn't resent him for it.

Sodapop flipped through the channels on the television aimlessly. Nothing good was on, and the reasons behind that were lucid. He wasn't exactly excited for the Purge, in spite of Darry's insinuations, but more so intrigued, piqued. How could you not be, when your older brother contraband the word due to his enmity for the subject, and your younger brother was so deathly afraid of it, he couldn't seem to quit shaking? Excitement and fear were rising up in the Greaser like a sort of sickness, and it didn't take a doctor to see that his mind was already infected. There had to be a middle ground, and Soda was felicitous to take that place.

He couldn't help but want to be out there, he thought, cursing under his breath.

The Greaser's eyes began to glaze over.

Steve was out there. He couldn't help but want to be with Steve.

A few hours previous, Steve had stopped by, ribbing Darry lightheartedly and even smiling at Ponyboy before pulling Soda aside. They were in his room, the door was cracked open and the light aerial cast an orange tint to everything. Steve had beamed at Soda and grabbed his hands, reticulating their fingers before Soda got the chance. His happiness was almost catching. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, pressed his lips to the boy before him. Soda locked his lips tight when Steve pulled away, cheeks flushed, his hands pliable in Steve's. The Greaser's eyes idled on Soda, causing his blush to deepen. He wanted to say the three words he fiercely desired were true.

"I'm going out tonight," Steve had said airily, as if in a reassuring manner.

Soda had nodded his head, his eyes shifting into a higher gear as he felt his hands wane under the pressure of Steve's grip.

"I'll be back," he had promised.

"Okay," Soda murmured. It was a lie, but it was a beautiful lie, so much so that Soda believed it.

A soft smile still on his lips, Steve veered in and kissed the Greaser's cheek before backing away languidly and walking out of the room. He didn't seem to notice his boyfriend's pale face or lack of reactions, while Soda turned Steve's promise over in his mind.

Sodapop was left with his mouth agape, reaching up and touching his cheek. His mind had loitered the moment he saw Steve. He wasn't left scared, wondering what could happen out there, what Steve was up to and what could go unsound, though. The only thing on his mind was Steve. How he trusted him. How he felt about him.

How he should've told him he loved him.

Soda wasn't imprudent though, more disappointed, vanquished than anything. It seemed like a pretty superior moment to tell him. Only two things stood in the way, Steve being one of them.

Renunciation was something Soda was sure he couldn't take, he just couldn't handle. If Steve didn't return his feelings-

Soda had shook his head, sauntering back out into the living room and turning on the television, sitting down on the couch, deciding not to agonize about that right now. Instead, he could fret about the second fault: people's reactions. How would everyone respond, or oppose? His brothers? The rest of the Greasers?

Soda glanced down at the stained floor beneath him, holding his head in his hands, eyes diverse.

He couldn't lose them. They were all he had. And he loved Steve. Soda loved Steve. He missed him already. He wanted him beside him, with him. Soda needed Steve, he loved him. This was a facet now, a statement that would not change on Soda's end if people did not uphold. Sure, Soda needed his brothers' and the Greasers' endorsements and standpoints, but if they didn't approve, if they didn't accept him, if no one accepted him, what would happen to him? Never mind that, he thought bitterly, his heart thrashing against his chest. What would happen to Steve? Would they drive him in a direction opposite to Soda? If they didn't accept-

Soda closed his eyes and let out an interminable breath, an exasperated sigh.

He couldn't stand losing his family, but if he lost Steve too? The Greaser knew he wouldn't be able to take it.

"Soda!" Darry barked, snapping Soda out of his daze.

"Coming," Soda countered, standing up and ambling over to the kitchen. Ponyboy was sitting at the table, eating something leisurely, eyebrows knit together in palpable worry, while Darry was standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest. Soda instantly knew Darry had fed Ponyboy something to help him feel better, and smiled softly. He had gotten quite parental since their mom and dad had died.

"I'm going out for a bit."

Ponyboy's head swiveled to his oldest brother, beginning to say something before Darry cut him off.

"Johnny said something about Dally taking part in this, this tonight. I don't need him dragging us into anything." He added the last part in a subdued voice, looking away from his siblings. Soda tried to think back to the last time he heard Darry stutter due to fear. Though overwrought, Ponyboy looked back at Soda, who smiled cordially, mouthing that everything would be fine. His brother simply gawked for a moment longer, then shifted his attention back to Darry, whose eyes were now on Soda, a finger thrust out and jabbing in Ponyboy's direction.

"Keep an eye on him."

Soda nodded.

"I'll be back," Darry went on, opening the back door and, for the first time since Soda could remember, bolting it behind him. His gaze cast downward for a hasty second, then back at Soda and Ponyboy.

"I promise."

The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

 **A/N: I think everyone has thought of this crossover before, but since the election is in swing, I thought it would be kinda cool to write about this. I've never done more than one chapter in any of my fanfics before, so wow I hope this all turns out okay, heh. This chapter takes place only a few months after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis died, about the time the actual book takes place, but obviously something happened within the government to allow the Purge to happen. The goal is to try and update this every week or so, but I'm sure lots of you can guess I'm not very good at that. Anyways, I apologize if there were any sentences that didn't make sense or misspelled words, or anything along the lines of that, and I hope you all enjoy the story, and the more chapters to come! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

It was cool out. The breeze was apical and bleak, the only thing shielding Two-Bit being his leather jacket. The Greaser was not scared, though. If anything, he walked with along the curb with a brisk smile playing at his lips. He wanted to see what the Curtis brothers were up to, but before he could reach their house, he had found Darry ambling down the street. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his head turned at every movement, from right to left, never faltering. Two-Bit smiled fully, taking long strides to catch up with his friend, which was easy enough, as he matched Darry's fleeting steps. Darry hailed Two-Bit with a simple nod, his eyebrows knit together, gaze narrowed and sweeping the neighborhood.

"What're you looking for?" Two-Bit asked, knowing Darry would snap at him if he asked what was wrong. Everyone knew how much the Greaser detested the Purge, for while others showed misgivings for it in their eyes, Darry's eyes would blaze in trepidation for it. Two-Bit couldn't imagine him actually afraid, but right now he looked more so overwrought. Restive at the most.

"Dally," Darry said hastily. "He's gonna mess this up, I know it," he stated, stuffing his hands further into his pockets.

Two-Bit shrugged. "That's his problem, not ours."

Darry slowed down a bit, almost to a stop, scowling at the male through a set of ice eyes. Two-Bit gazed back, smiling softly in incentive, until Darry shook his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, then began to walk again, more agile than he had been before. Two-Bit lost his simper in the midst of catching up with his friend.

"It'll be our problem," he thought he heard Darry mutter.

The road beneath their feet suddenly grew more compact, somber against the dark sky ahead of them as Darry's words settled in Two-Bit's mind. The wind howled softly, which would have made for a spectral effect, but whoops and hollers echoed in the distance. People's voices rose and fell, and anyone could tell that they were drunk. Car engines resonated far off, uneven and matching up with buzzed laughter.

"Dally," Darry suddenly hissed. Two-Bit's head snapped back up.

Johnny was standing next to Dally by the water fountain, which Two-Bit could've expected. In his mind, Dally had a habit of playing Johnny like a violin.

There was a gun in Dally's hands, and Two-Bit glanced over at Darry, figuring he had been right. Darry himself didn't catch this, but in lieu stormed up to Dally, seething. Chuckles of merriment escaped the Greaser, until Darry stepped closer, the two's faces almost touching. Worry was not any of the emotions evident on the Greasers' expressions, only a grimace and a grin. Darry wanted to nab the male's shirt collar and shake him, though capably held back, due to that rebound being exactly what Dally wanted. Meanwhile, Johnny was saying things nobody could hear, stammering against the imminent fight. Two-Bit finally stepped in alongside Darry, both he and Johnny hauling Darry and Dally back away from each other.

"You stay away from us," Darry snarled. "If you plan in taking part of this, we don't want you around. _I_ don't want you around."

Two-Bit blinked, staring hard at his friend. He had never seen Darry get so worked up over something. The way his eyes were narrowed and coruscating, how his fists were constrict at his sides and the way his breath was so torrid it warmed the air around his lips to the point of visibility against the dark. Two-Bit was almost too daunted to continue to keep his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Dally was easy going, though. Johnny simply stood beside him so his shoulder was touching the Greaser's bicep. A grin worked its way onto Dally's face and didn't withdrawal. "Slow down," he murmured, holding his hands out, palms facing Darry in a mock surrender. "You didn't have to come here," he said, but only to spite. "I'm not asking anyone to join me." He grabbed Johnny's shoulder and beamed eminently down at him. "Johnny didn't have to come, but here he is, out of his own free will. 'Cause he _cares_ ," Dally added, as if abrading Darry further.

Dark, broad eyes peered up at Dally, and Johnny wondered if Darry believed it. He wondered if _he_ believed it himself. Had he gone just because he cared about Dally? Or did the Greaser guilt-trip him into it? Sure, he was tense about what would happen if Dally got hurt, but did Dally just use that to his own advantage? It was basic to believe, and Johnny couldn't exactly chide him if that had been his intention. He firmly believed that even if it wasn't conscious to him, Dally needed someone. Out of anyone and everyone, it was surely going to be Johnny. He knew Dally wasn't a lost cause: he was just lost. He didn't know that you didn't die for your friends, but you lived for them instead. Johnny held hope though, he had never lost that before, and a thing like this wasn't going to alter that.

"Well I care, too," Darry spat, bringing everyone out of their daze and back into the conversation. "About my family," he went on, jabbing his thumb at his chest and baring his teeth. This time Dally took the tempt.

"Your _family_?" he asked in a critically low voice. Johnny was already trying to side step in front of the Greaser, and Two-Bit was left gaping at Darry. Arms crossed, posture stark and rigid, the male did not give anything away; he instructed no remorse

Dally came storming up to him, rumbling and swinging his fists through the air, though Darry did not balk, instead imperturbably waited with his jaw tightened.

"What are we, then? If we aren't your family, why don't you run back to Soda and Pony?" He looked around dramatically before glaring back at Darry. "Aren't they scared? All alone without mama Darry? Why don't you jus-"

Dally was cut off by a strident sound that reminded him of a bell, a ringing sound that burst over the boys, shrieking. Darry's eyes went wide. Johnny convulsed, whereas Dally simply stared off into the ambit, where the sound was amplifying. Two-Bit squeezed his hand into a fist, a sudden hysteria rising in the pit of his stomach.

"This is your emergency broadcast system announcing this commencement of the annual purge. At the siren, all emergency services will be suspended for 12 hours. Your government thanks you for your participation."

* * *

 **A/N: Ohhh snap okay this is when things start to get real, so prepare.**


	3. Chapter 3

Darry wanted to scream, to bellow at Dally, censure him for their current strait. It was his fault after all, he thought, appalled. If he hadn't been fighting, they would've realized what time it was, that they all needed to get back home. _This couldn't be happening_ , his mind pursued. _This couldn't be happening!_ His fingers ticced, mind racing. _Ponyboy and Sodapop!_ his mind bawled. They were all alone, and he was so far away, would he ever make it back?

"-Darry. Darry?" Dally's voice came to.

Darry looked back at everyone, who all directly perceived the dismay radiating in his expression. The breeze grew keen. It was suddenly too drab and he knew the world was going to fall in on itself. He knew that there was nothing he could do.

"Darry!"

"What?" the Greaser roared, before closing his eyes and taking a breath. His friend's voice melted in with his own thoughts, frantic and heated and cloaking pain, but in a heinous way.

"You never let me finish," Darry began willfully. His voice was barely audible and all he wanted to do was break back to his brothers. Nobody would hearken to him, though, if he rushed his words. It wasn't an option to run away alone now, he would lose the people who had been with him forever.

"What?" Dally asked sharply.

Pale blue eyes opened and Dally was surprised to see sincerity effulgent in them. "You're my family," the Greaser said, looking around at everyone else. "You're all my family. I want to be there for you all, I want you guys to be safe." He paused for a short moment. "That's why I didn't want you doing anything stupid, Dally. Guess I acted a bit mean, huh? You don't deserve that."

By the time he had attained to Dally's name, Darry's voice was mild, his stance, the expression he held, he was vulnerable. Everyone saw this, and wordlessly complied. It seemed Dally had been frightened out of his enraged state.

"Wasn't fair of me to stop talking when I did. I just wanted to get you back, Dally. But I know better now." He faltered, glancing away for a moment, then back at the Greasers. "I know we've gotta get back, too, to Ponyboy and Sodapop. Because they're part of the family, we need to protect them as much as we protect each other."

The others gazed at everyone else, and they ultimately nodded in a silent agreement. They knew not to push Darry tonight. Tonight he was more of a Greaser than anyone else; with raw emotion and the urge to get back and protect his own blood, they couldn't expect anything more out of him.

"Let's go," Two-Bit was the first to say. Darry glanced back at Johnny, then Dally, after nodding.

"Yeah," he muttered, his face still hard, though the air around him, the way he moved, Darry couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but he knew that he was forgiven, and that was enough.

They all started walking back to the house, feet heavy and hearts solemn, until Dally couldn't take it anymore, and broke out into a sprint. The rest of the Greasers followed without dubiety, four pairs of feet racing across the pavement, as fast as their legs could carry them, to their home and to their family.

* * *

Steve had heard everything. He had been there, waiting further off in the bushes. Nothing took up his agenda tonight, as the Greaser figured it was a faultless night to walk, to think. A gun was enveloped away between the waistline of his pants and adjacent to his skin. It would do no damage, and cause him no regret. There were no rules tonight. If everything got to him, he could merely do some target practice, maybe meet up with Two-Bit to see what fortunes they could lift in town.

He didn't intend to truly use the gun, maybe just to daunt a few people, laugh and not care about the residuum. Though when he had seen Dally and Johnny ambling into the park, he had quieted himself, no longer toying with the heater. Johnny's eyes were wide and although Steve couldn't make out his words, he could hear Johnny's voice was high in stress, nearly ripped away. The other Greaser simply fiddled with his switchblade and murmured something in riposte. This went on for a while, and by the time Darry and Two-Bit came by, Steve had a two-sided story on what was about to happen, and afterwards, watched them leave without a word. Unable to decide if it was worth it to go along and help protect everyone, or be alone without repressions, Steve stood up from leaning back against the tree. He would trail subsequently a ways, and if anything caught his eye, he would mutely let that divert him. Besides, even though Soda would be there, it would be torture having to act around him as they did everyday. Feeling dead inside without Soda had become an everyday feeling.

It started to drizzle out, showering the male's face with light raindrops. The air was still and bleak, the stars overhead twinkling shyly in and out of sight, while Steve's mind whirred. He should've taken some spirits from Two-Bit before this whole event.

But Ponyboy could take care of himself, and if not, if Darry couldn't stop worrying, why couldn't _he_ just watch him? Why did he need Soda to? Steve's eyes flashed as he grasped that Darry might have found out about him and Soda. _No way_ he was trying to keep them apart! Steve shook his head. He was getting paranoid. Maybe he could try to go to their house, poach Soda away. The Greaser's pace quickened, until he was almost jogging. Even just being in Soda's room with him would be enough, right? Of course it would be, he thought, shaking his head yet again-

Suddenly his heartbeat was breaking through his ears and his whole head pulsated. The skin on his face reddened. Laughter echoed and bounced off the walls in his head. It didn't occur to him that there were other people around until he realized he couldn't get up from his sudden flat-on-his-back position. Blood surged out of his nose and his focus was failing, blurry colors dancing before him. He couldn't even lift up his arms. His mind slowed and the guardian angel he didn't know he believed in seemed to abandon him at that moment.

"You hit him so low!" a voice boomed.

Steve groused, crowding his eyes shut and wincing at the pain it caused. Stars imploded in his vision, clouts knocking him unbalanced.

What he didn't know, was that the Socs' bat had cuffed him square between the eyes. Steve didn't even perceive them as Socs. They were all looming over him, humorously holding the Greaser down. He would struggle to sit up before they all took part in shoving him back down, his head crashing back onto the pavement with a sickening thud. He closed his eyes and elapsed into a dark paradise.

 _They're going to kill me_ , Steve thought frantically. He couldn't get up. He couldn't even get up! His eyes attempted at opening, but once again, the colors were too deafening and the voices were too bright, though he endured. It felt like flames were erupting beneath his skin. Taunts were being cast at him from every direction, that much he knew. Suddenly his head slammed to the side and hollers of laughter transfixed his ears. It came again, and again, with every hit, the dark blotches in his eyes grew more monumental. He moaned helplessly, calling out Soda's name. The Socs guffawed at this, and before he could tell what was happening, a sweaty, brawny hand thrust itself out and veiled Steve's mouth.

They were goading him, but with no restraints, with no consequences dragging behind any of the Socs if they actually killed Steve, there was absolutely no guarantee that the Greaser would make it out of this.

 _Didn't they get it?_ his mind wandered. He was already broken, incapable of fighting back, much less able to breathe at this point thanks to the Soc's hand. His limbs flailed weakly, barely passing as strives to try and get free. His mind raced, until he recalled the gun. How had no one noticed it yet? Steve didn't waste any time, but shrieked with all of his strength and moved his hand to his belt using all of his might. The Socs were taken aback at this for a fleeting moment, and Steve could tell. His muscles throbbed as he seized ahold of the gun. None of the Socs were conscious of what was happening, and eventually, Steve cradled the gun in one hand before constructing it high in the air, liberating himself of the Socs' grasps. He squeezed the trigger, and his body shook as the bullet fired into the sky, ready to lower his hand, and squeeze again.

* * *

The gunshot made everyone jump. Darry gritted his teeth and growled to go faster. Johnny exchanged a tense look with Two-Bit, and Dally's hand compulsively went to his gun. They were nearly home. They were almost home and they would not dare turn around.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope this was alright, lots of pain, I apologize. Steve doesn't deserve this.**


	4. Chapter 4

Ponyboy whined at the sole blare. He had gotten more jumpy, more fearful since his and Soda's parents had died. Yet another thing granting to the reason the Purge was happening. Their home was bleeding out, and Soda wrapped an arm around Pony to draw him close, sussing that the boy had already began trembling.

"Darry's not, not back . . ." he sputtered.

It was dark outside and Soda knew Darry would skin him alive if he caught either of the boys out of the house.

"I know," Soda said in a hushed voice, running his fingers through his brother's hair. For once, Pony didn't snap at him, but was too panicky to seemly react. The grease in his hair made it tricky, Soda reflected, but soon enough, he was able to finger through it, stilling Ponyboy's whimpers.

"He'll be back soon?" Ponyboy whispered.

Sodapop nodded. "He'll be back soon."

The gunshot would go unspoken. Ponyboy just wanted to pretend that he hadn't even heard it, that it hadn't even happened. That could've been one of his friends getting shot at, or seizing the trigger. It could be a cry for help.

"We . . . Gotta go out there," Ponyboy stammered leisurely. He looked over at Soda, whose expression was resembling Darry's. "Someone could be hurt," the boy pointed out in a wavering voice. His hands were quivering. Sodapop's light eyes clouded at this, and it took a stint of time before he cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Prob'lly those damn Socs," he muttered as an account. Ponyboy nodded. It was more than likely the verity. There were a lot of people in Tulsa, a lot of inferior people, so he should've been amazed that this was only the first gunshot he had heard.

Distantly, he wished that the Socs weren't going to plague the Greasers tonight. It was a viable fear, one Ponyboy almost smacked himself for not thinking of sooner. A night like this, no repercussions, no one to turn to if things _did_ get ugly . . .

Ponyboy shuddered harder.

"What's the matter?" Sodapop asked gently. His voice was light and indulgent already. Ponyboy felt his body slacken against Soda, in spite of his mind still barreling over every abhorrent possibility.

"Darry, Greasers-" Ponyboy stuttered. He had meant to ask what was happening to his brothers and friends, but his jaw was quivering, his lips were suddenly too soft and light to frame the words.

"He will be back soon, trust me," Soda pledged, unconscious to the fact that he had said _he_ , 'he' being Darry, or even the rest of the Greasers, in Ponyboy's head, but Steve in Soda's mind. There was no way Ponyboy would seize this though, and Soda felt the young Greaser practically jump out of his arms when the front door abruptly thundered with knocks. The boy's breath hitched and a whimper eluded from him as Soda's eyes broadened. Ponyboy knew his older brother had to let go of him, but suddenly he was six years old again, cowering in the vigilant arms of his mother.

"Let us in," a familiar voice enjoined.

"Ponyboy, you gotta stay here, it's Dally at the door," Sodapop began to expound.

"Darry?" Ponyboy whispered, though to Soda, it resonated more like a squeak.

"Dally," Soda corrected, shaking his head and slowly manumitting the boy from his grasp.

"Soda!" Darry snapped urgently.

"Coming," Soda gasped, a resonance of respite swaying in his voice. "Hold your horses."

More beating on the door; more shaking from Ponyboy.

Soda threw the lock and the Greasers all collided in, driving Soda aside and ramming the door shut.

"What's gotten into you guys?" Soda demanded, a shade humorous as a grin tugged on his lips, patently not understanding how dismal the situation was until he discerned no one was listening. "Guys? What're your problems?"

Again, everyone was oblivious to his raucous tone and now irate expression. Ponyboy saw how his brother put his hands on his hips, raging at the lack of deliberation he was receiving. He saw how his eyes shifted into a higher gear as he scanned the room, and then dropped back down into a scowl at the lack of something, or someone.

"Turn the lights off," Darry said in a gruff voice. His eyes procured Ponyboy, still cowering on the couch, poorly muffled in threadbare blankets, then Soda, a glower still on his face, stance rigid. "Ponyboy, Sodapop, go up to your room; stay quiet and don't let anyone know you're in there," he charged.

As fearsome as that sounded, Ponyboy was elated to oblige.

"What's this all about?" Soda entailed again, paying no mind to Darry's instructions. The rest of the Greasers surged around the Curtis brothers, securing the windows and locking all the doors, making sure no light was left on and no apparatus was left running.

"Just get up there, boys," Darry sighed, causing Soda to wheeze in incredulity.

"Darry!" he said, eyeing his brother with a wide gaze.

Ponyboy fumbled on trying to get up, and outwardly that caused him to plummet deeper into the couch cushions when he fell back. He was without warning a thousand pounds, with his tongue too thick and shapes obscuring together in his gaze. Far off, he fathomed he couldn't catch his breath, but was unconscious to the fact that he was adroit to do something about it.

Darry saw this out of the corner of his eye, but Soda took up more attention.

"Quiet," he whispered, and Soda fumed even more, dropping his hands from his hips and balling his fists at his sides.

"Darr-"

"Quiet! They could be outside!" Darry said in a fraught whisper.

"Who?" Ponyboy croaked.

Every head turned to him, but the boy kept his gaze on Darry, fingers coiling around the blanket on his lap.

"Who would you expect?" Dally suddenly snapped, his eyes blazing. "Socs!"

Ponyboy withdrew back somehow further into the couch. Sodapop's eyes narrowed and he stalked over to Ponyboy, taking his hand and goading him to his feet. He glared at the Greasers without a word as he oversaw his younger brother back to their room. Darry sighed, but did not go after them, merely stared at the hallway the two had evanesce down. Johnny glanced at Dally, who attained over and gave his shoulder a gentle wring, guiding him to sit down on the couch with Two-Bit following behind them.

"They'll be back," Dally told Darry, who softly snorted.

"Yeah, just come sit down with us now," Johnny suggested airily, moving insufficiently on the couch and indicating a spot for his friend to sit if he pleased.

Darry huffed, shaking his head affably to Johnny, who smiled considerately in response, anxiety florid in his dark eyes. He saw how the Greaser's gaze was boring back down the hall. He had come here for his brothers, but they now wanted nothing to do with him. Darry felt used to this though, for he always knew it was for the preeminent good. Let Soda and Ponyboy think, he thought, trying not to be too bitter. They were safe and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 **A/N: Why do people's emotions change so quickly? Why is everyone (Sodapop) so mad? Why are they fighting on a night like this? Why doesn't anybody ask where Steve is? The world still has yet to find answers to these questions.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Maybe we should go back out there," Ponyboy murmured. Sodapop made a sound echoing a hiss, and Ponyboy knew not to press further.

His fingers shook. His mind was swarming again, the words not making sense in his head. Plus the lights weren't on, making matters deficient.

Moonlight bathed Sodapop and Ponyboy was once again prompted of the beauty his brother possessed, even in this harrowing of times. To himself, he nodded his head, electing to focus on Soda right now. The way his movie-star eyes thinned against the dark, how he bit his lower lip until the skin beneath it turned white, how his mouth continued to form a word Ponyboy hadn't yet picked up. It mollified him. Everything Soda did had a sedating effect on Ponyboy, whose eyelids, despite everything, now grew heavy.

"Gotta help him," Soda's voice lulled Pony back to the present, gripping him from his trance, though the words barely registered in his head. "Gotta help him . . !" Soda repeated more urgently. "He could be in danger!"

"Who?" Ponyboy mumbled. He opened his eyes to see his brother whip around to face him, his back now facing the window so the gusto moon behind him cast light to frame his now shadow of a stance.

"Steve!" he bellowed. Ponyboy's mind lazily snapped back into place, his heart emanating.

"Steve," he murmured, wondering how it seemed everyone, including himself, had omitted their friend.

Though he was rootless again, as he saw his brother's gaze widen, careening backwards a bit. It seemed his breath had been poached and there was a miscreation before him. His eyes had relinquished their blaze, something Ponyboy had not counted on happening on a night like tonight, but he realized how scared Soda must be for his best friend. He stood up and wandered over to Sodapop, holding his hands out gently, a bolstering look buried deep within his gaze.

"We'll help him, okay?"

Soda, lips still parted, made a tiny motion, a short shake of his head. "We gotta find him," the Greaser muttered. Ponyboy sheathed his arms around his brother.

"We'll find him," he promised, raw emotion thick in his voice. It was almost as if Sodapop didn't have enough strength to hold on to Ponyboy at first, but then he remembered that this was one of the boys keeping him same, and he hugged him tight. Maybe it was a bit more tightly than comfortable, but Ponyboy didn't mind.

"Don't have to be so sappy," Soda chuckled after a few moments. Ponyboy felt Soda's arms around him lessen.

"When, though?" Ponyboy suddenly asked, his unease getting the best of him. Soda broke away, touching a finger to his chin, and his little brother noticed a spark in his gaze.

"Darry probably expects us to stay cowering in here all night, probably knows better than to check on us." A dangerous gleam overtook Soda's expression. "He wouldn't know if we sneaked out," the Greaser drawled.

Ponyboy forced a smile, pushing his anxiety down and relishing as Soda began to grow blithe and hopeful again.

"Good idea," he murmured.

The floorboards chirred as Sodapop crossed the room, placing his hands on the window frame and raising it up. "We can sneak out this way," he chided. Ponyboy hesitantly nodded. Soda stuck his head out the window and inhaled deeply before crawling all the way out. The leaves crunched under his feet as he landed, but he quickly sprang back up with leisure.

Ponyboy avowed they were just going to a rumble, for he could tell that this night was already close to being full of flips and laughs.

"Come on Ponyboy," Sodapop pleaded. "I'll help you out."

Ponyboy took a step forwards, then halted, spinning backwards on his feet, much to his brother's dismay.

"Pony!" Soda hissed.

"Just a second!"

Ponyboy grabbed some pillows and sprawled them under the covers on the bed so that when he stepped away, they resembled the better part of two bodies.

"Oh, smart!" Soda emitted, holding his arms out through the window. Ponyboy hastily climbed through and Sodapop helped him down so he landed with little noise. Although before he could say anything, Soda briskly began heading to the lot. Ponyboy took off after him, shivering against the sudden frore and wishing he had brought a jacket, but continued to advance in racing beside his brother and didn't complain. He could tell Sodapop was on a mission, that he really cared about Steve and would go after him regardless of anyone's approval, or therefore lack of. So Ponyboy continued running after Sodapop, lungs aching already, the soles of his feet numb.

* * *

 **A/N: Is Ponyboy picking up things, hm? (Need to stop ending these with questions omg. Sorry this chapter was short . . . The next chapter is intense, I assure you it makes up.)**


	6. Chapter 6

When they got to the lot, Ponyboy shrank back, braking down to a stop. There was a horde of Socs and he knew Steve had to be in the middle of them, for he could hear them jeering someone with familiar names.

" _Greaser!"_

 _"Hoodlum!"_

 _"Fag."_

Ponyboy winced at the last word, and looked over to see Soda's eyes grow broad and flinch all the same.

"They found out," he gasped. It almost looked like he was going to wane, but then his eyes glinted and his fists clenched at his sides and he took off hollering things that Darry surely would've gasped at.

Ponyboy ran after Sodapop with his mind spared.

Everything happened in slow motion after that second it seemed, those moments evermore playing on a loop in the boy's mind.

He was staggered to see Soda cussing and stomping at the Socs with such means. They turned back to look at him and squarely bellowed in laughter, spewing more names. But Sodapop pulled out a revolver and in no time had it aimed at a Soc whose knuckles were drenched in blood that was obviously not his own. Caterwauling penetrated Ponyboy's ears from some of the Socs. There were only about five, but three went fleeing and the only reason one of them stayed was because the muzzle of Sodapop's gun was now thrust to his temple.

 _They didn't think to bring guns, or even weapons?_ Ponyboy disputed slowly. He looked around and saw a stained-red bat that was slung onto the grass. Incredulity, there was nothing else beside it, not even a blade.

They hadn't intended on killing anyone, they only wanted to cause pain. They singled out Steve because he was alone and could not fight back, as far as Ponyboy knew.

One of the Socs though, the one who wasn't being held hostage by Soda, was slowly lifting a gun towards the Greaser. Ponyboy yelled his brother's name and Soda was on the Soc in a heartbeat, whipping through a round of bullets with his mouth wide open, roaring.

Two bullets caught the Soc mid-thigh, and he crumpled to the ground like he was on a soap, clutching the limb and hollering so loudly Ponyboy felt tears flood his eyes.

The other Soc managed to clock Soda square in the jaw, grabbing his friend in the spared time and forcing him to his feet, both sprinting away by the time Sodapop had rallied.

Ponyboy saw Soda growl and narrow his eyes, but a moment later he was on his knees beside a familiar bruised and bloodied body. Ponyboy hurried over before the two, gasping softly at the sight of Steve. He was as bad as Johnny had been when he'd been found. The Greaser's jaw was slacked severely, opened to reveal chipped, broken teeth and sanguine lips. Moans of pain eluded from him, and Soda gingerly grabbed his hand. Glossy tears shone in his movie-star eyes. Steve did not see this though, as one eye was swollen shut and the other was on its way to look the same. There was a newer, sharper angle that made up his nose, which blood was still spouting out of, and when Ponyboy saw the bat a ways off, he knew what had caused his friend's broken bones. Sodapop lifted Steve's head and a second later his whole hand was dripping with blood due to a deep gash in the Greaser's skull. There were many more injuries, but Sodapop heaved Steve over himself like a backpack and grunted for Pony to start heading home while keeping a lookout for more Socs.

The young Greaser dipped his head and started off down the road.

* * *

Lights worked no longer, was what Soda was saying to his kid brother, but for Steve the lights had abruptly faded long before the Greasers had materialized. His whole body was throbbing, heart pulsating in his fingers and his toes, up to his face and through his ears. He didn't even want to go home, he just wanted Soda to call an ambulance to come pick him up. Although Steve was still mindful enough to know that that was unfeasible.

 _No help for_ God knows _how many more hours_ , he thought, sullen.

He distantly hoped that he wouldn't die, afraid his heart would cease beating and his body would shut down all while in Soda's arms.

Steve was soon elighted of what sounded like more murmuring playing around him though, and in spite of the pounding pain, opened his eyes to amount further. Human-like figures took place in his gaze, and Steve straightaway fathomed them to be the rest of the Greasers as Soda laid him down on the couch with little dubiety. He groaned. The room went tacit for a moment, but then droned with noise and diverse syllables that Steve could not make out.

He was jovial to be away from the Socs and all the desolation that they had caused. He was happy to be away from instability, and most importantly, he was happy to see that Soda was safe. A faint smile tugged at his lips and he let his eyelids fall contently, the Greasers' familiar voices lulling him to sleep, happy again, to be rid of the pain.

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter is the last chapter. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

"He's not supposed to sleep with a concussion!"

" _Wake him up!_ "

"Why did they have to ban doctors? Do we even _know_ anyone with medical experience?"

"Wake him up, for God's sake!" Soda screamed, but his voice remitted with everyone else's. He grumbled, forcing past the others and bowing down to press his ear to Steve's chest. Johnny and Ponyboy were surveilling him with worried expressions, while everyone else fought on what to do with the injured Greaser. Sodapop gently lowered Steve onto the ground and although unconscious, his body started to jerk and flail, limbs punting out in impossible directions, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth. Soda almost whimpered, but then narrowed his eyes and pushed his fears away, all while Steve's breathing faltered.

"He could be choking," Johnny said urgently.

Sodapop nodded his head, gaze still set and hands steady on Steve as he lifted his limp body to sit upright against him. Gurgling noises ensued in the back of the Greaser's throat, but soon they died down, and even though his eyes were still closed, his breathing began to even out. He was once again safe in Soda's arms.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Two-Bit asked while fidgeting with the end of his shirt. Soda made a face, but ultimately nodded.

"Seem's like he'll be fine for now. Few broken bones, his bleeding is slowing down, just gotta make sure he doesn't choke again."

 _He could stop breathing._

As everything began to lose pace, every Greaser had a sense of gratification for how expeditiously and even mindedly Soda had took control of the situation. Darry arose to smile and bent his knees so he was crouching down next to Sodapop.

"You did good," he lauded, hand against his brother's back. Sodapop looked over at Darry and contrived to smile. His eyes were encircled in worry, though, his hair disarray.

Dally probed the clock. "Only a matter of hours now, then the hospitals should be open," he assured Soda, who smiled ardently in a wordless thanks.

"He can make it until then," Sodapop said, gazing down at Steve, who groused softly. His fingers began twitching, bringing tears to Soda's eyes. He immersed his head into the crook of Steve's neck, mumbling something everybody have to meditate twice on. Soda didn't care, though. He had almost lost Steve tonight, and that fulfillment sparked the truth to fall from his lips.

"I love you, Steve."

The Greasers all gaped at the two, and one by one made eye contact with each other.

"We all love him, Soda," Ponyboy murmured ethereally.

Soda looked up at his younger brother, then shifted his solemn gaze to everyone else. "I-" He cut himself off, shaking his head and looking away to a blotch on the floor. "I _love_ him."

There was a allied gasp, though soft for Soda's sake.

"You love him?" Darry asked.

Soda would've winced if he hadn't been dreading over Steve's life. His older brother's voice was thick with the natural austere he had developed, while the chill that was coated on top of it didn't exactly assuage the situation. Suddenly biting his lip, Sodapop felt a sudden ire smoldering in his belly.

"I love him," he said, this time more strenuously. "And he loves me," he added in a quieter voice.

The Greasers' eyes shifted from Soda and Steve to Darry, some mouths ajar. Darry's eyes were straitened naturally while Ponyboy had a look of affection written on his face.

"He'll get better," Johnny suddenly said, thus breaking the silence. Sodapop peered at the boy and smiled achingly, raving at himself for expounding such a secret.

"He will, okay? Trust me," Two-Bit pronounced. "Hospitals will be open in a few hours, and we'll make damn sure that he is the first one in."

Soda beamed truly at his friend's words, and looked over to Darry, who blinked and nodded his head ingenuously. He got up and strided over to Soda, surrounding his arms around his brother and holding him tightly.

"I would've been mad if I hadn't have known, but I knew," he chuckled fondly. He scratched the back of his neck, inept to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn't know you two had been _in love_ with each other all this time, but if anyone's gonna be with my kid brother, it's sure as hell gonna be Steve."

Soda grinned, tears glossing his eyes in elatedness. Ponyboy and the rest of the Greasers all simpered. Soda motioned for Ponyboy to join the hug, who blissfully obliged, pulling Johnny along with him. Dally smirked, having to get in on what was happening, wrapping his arms around Two-Bit's shoulder and driving him into the embrace as well. Sodapop heaved, tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he smiled. Everyone weaved into the hug, murmuring how happy they were for him and Steve. They all made certain to him that the moment Steve woke up, they would lay off him so that Soda could have some time with his boyfriend, and Soda couldn't have been happier.

* * *

 ** _Epilogue_**

* * *

At the first light the Greasers were helping Steve into the car. Soda was cradling his boyfriend's head in his lap, simpering marginally at his friends' and family's acceptance fronting the two, and at the same time praying for Steve's safety.

"He'll be okay," Ponyboy said. Darry smiled at Soda through the rearview mirror, leaning back and grasping his brothers' shoulders, simpering at the rest of the Greasers who had brimmed the car. The eldest Curtis brother grinned one more time at Soda, and in that moment the Greaser knew that Steve would be okay, that everything would be okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Yeee I am done with the first story. (I feel the ending was very rushed. Sorry!) I hope everyone liked it! I'm already working on the second Purge, but don't expect anything for a few months just to be safe. Sorry if there were any misspelled words or sentences that didn't make sense in this story, or if this just didn't appeal to you. This was my first time writing something with over one chapter so aha, I hope this was good! Thanks for reading, and constructive criticism and reviews always help! :D**


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